Today Is My Moment
by lourdesmont
Summary: A oneshot. It is now over three years since the events of Puzzle Pieces and reformed scoundrel, Henri De Chagny, faces his future. Will he be able to overcome his remaining doubts and insecurites to find that for which he longs?


_**Author's Note:** This was written as a request for something "schmoopie and schmaltzie" from the person who created "Henri" and has so graciously entrusted him to my care from time-to-time, my LiveJournal friend "musiquephan". This story occurs approximately three and a half years after the events of "Puzzle Pieces" and is a brief glimpse into what life has in store for one, Henri De Chagny. It is also another setup for the upcoming sequel to "Puzzle Pieces".  
_

Today Is My Moment

Henri De Chagny stood by the window in the bright sunny room, fiddling with the diamond cufflinks that bound his sleeves about his wrists. When he realized he could not free the shackles from about his arms, Henri reached up to the silk noose that wrapped around his neck. He moved his fingers about the stiff collar, slipping a single finger between the fine material and the clammy skin beneath, desperately trying to draw a deep breath that seemed to elude him. Henri could still not find any relief from the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him and he turned from the window, placing a single foot upon a highly polished table and stretching out over it. He moved in precise, calculated motions, muscles remembering years of dance training. Yet his actions did nothing to slow the heart that raced in his chest or fill the lungs that seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Henri slowly straightened as he removed his foot from the table.

"You are just going to wrinkle your clothes if you continue to do that," an amused voice told him.

Henri glared at Raoul who sat in a seat against the wall. His tall cousin lounged carelessly in the seat, long legs crossed at the ankles, his hands clasped together behind his head. "That is easy for you to say," Henri told him. "You have already done this; I am quite new at it."

Raoul straightened his posture, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You are not thinking of backing out now, are you?"

"I would not dare to think such a thing!" Henri replied - the shock and fear evident in his voice and facial expression. "Those Americans are such a violent race! I am sure they would hunt me down and ensure I never did anything ever again!"

Raoul burst into laughter. "I am sorry," he said after a few moments, struggling to get his laughter under control. "But the image of you running from a cowboy in a large white hat with pistols blazing away is just too amusing!"

Henri sighed. "At least one of us can find some humor in this," he said softly as he turned back toward the window, remembering the event that had brought him to this time and place:

_After a lengthy recovery from a nearly fatal bout with pneumonia, Henri had vigorously thrown himself back into the dizzy whirl that was the London social scene. As his parents smiled on in approval, Henri had resumed nights at the opera and afternoons in exclusive gentleman's clubs. He had taken a patronage position with the ballet much to his mother's delight and actually took time out from his busy social schedule to spend time with his father, learning the family's business – much to his father's delight. Henri, with his good looks, family connections, charming manner and large income was a desired guest at any party where eligible young girls could be found. Henri thoroughly enjoyed being the center of attention but after nearly two years it began to wear upon him. One party turned into the next; one glittering evening became a month of glittering evenings. And the face of one beautiful girl became the face of every beautiful girl. _

One evening, as Henri bowed low over the hand of a giggling girl barely out of the nursery, his thoughts drifted away, heading over the English Channel and toward the land and the family he had left behind one snowy evening years ago. Henri watched, as his dance companion was whisked away by another gallant gentleman, before quietly disappearing into the shadows that lined the edges of the ballroom. He easily maneuvered through the dowagers who gossiped behind their fans and the old men who talked without regard for the words that slipped from their lips. Henri smiled graciously at them, greeting the friends of his parents, smiling at mothers of daughters whose names he had long forgotten before easing himself out a side door and into the cool evening. Henri walked into the dark garden, ignoring the nervous giggles that emanated from behind shadowed bushes. He walked past the fountain that splashed merrily in the middle of the carefully manicured beds and found a lone bench onto which he gratefully sank, as he thought back upon the words he had read that very morning.

Philippe and Monique had returned from their extended honeymoon in Spain and Italy, being welcomed back to the huge chateau they would now call home. There had been no animosity greeting the new mistress and Henri was thankful for that. It had been a dangerous game they had all played, no one aware of the part that the others had played, and to know that it had eventually reached a happy ending for all involved, lifted a bit of the remaining weight from Henri's heart. The letter had said that Cote de Vallee was in the midst of a major remodeling job; the new owners doing their best to cleanse the ghosts of the past. Henri smiled, as he thought of Didier and Solange, so happy with each other, so happy in their new position. A stray prayer of thanks passed quickly through Henri's mind that the insanity that had been the curse of Didier's family had not been passed onto his best friend. Didier and Solange were free to face the future before them. The letter in his cousin's neat script had also mentioned the secured future of the de Chagny family, a future that Henri had once thought he wanted, a future that now rested upon the tiny shoulders of Raoul's month old son, Olivier.

"Perhaps, some day I shall be able to see him," Henri whispered to himself, feeling the old insecurity flare again. He knew that Philippe had sworn he was not angry with him, that he had understood why Henri could not say what he had suspected about what had been done to Raoul. Henri knew that Raoul had faced Philippe, taking his older brother to task for the way Philippe had treated the person who had saved his life. Henri knew that Philippe had forgiven him. Philippe had even welcomed him to his wedding to Monique. Yet over two years later there remained the uncertainty of Philippe's feelings. Henri was still nervous of the anger that Philippe kept under such tight control and he was not quite brave enough to set foot in Chagny now that Philippe had returned. He was not yet ready to face the lion in his very own den alone and without the protection of the confidence Henri knew was still lacking in his character. He also knew that that meant he would not be able to see Olivier until Raoul and Christine returned to Paris. Henri knew that Raoul and Christine would always welcome him into their Paris home. "One day, Olivier" he repeated to himself. "One day."

"Pardon?" A strangely accented voice asked.

Henri raised his eyes to see a vision from Heaven standing before him. She was dressed in a pale blue gown that gleamed in the light from the moon. Blonde curls framed a calm, serene face. Henri could not make out the color of the inquisitive eyes but he was quite happy to drown in them.

"Do you often speak to yourself alone in dark gardens?" she asked.

Henri found himself speechless as he stared up at her.

The woman held out a gloved hand. "My name is Constance Hammond."

Henri took her hand.

Constance raised an eyebrow at him. "And you are?"

Henri slowly rose to his feet, keeping hold of Constance's hand. "You are not English."

Constance shook her head. "No," she replied. "I am American and you have me at an extreme disadvantage, sir."

Henri could not find the switch that turned on his natural charm. "I am Henri De Chagny," he stammered. "I did not mean to intrude." Henri heard the words slip from between his lips and mentally kicked himself for their inanity.

Constance favored him with a beautiful smile. "I believe it was I who intruded upon your private thoughts." She took back her hand. "It is not often that one hears a person speaking aloud to themselves in a place where there is the possibility of being overhead. I just wished to assure myself that all was well."

"Well," Henri said, never taking his eyes from her face. "Yes, everything is well, Missus Hammond."

"It is Miss Hammond," Constance gently corrected Henri.

Henri felt like jumping around like a giddy child. "Miss Hammond," he softly echoed her words.

"I am glad, then; and shall not worry or call for assistance," Constance told him before dipping her head politely at Henri. "Good evening, sir."

Henri could do nothing but watch as the woman he did not even know but loved anyway walked away and disappeared into the glittering lights of the party from which he had escaped.

And Henri knew he needed to escape once again. "I cannot do this," he said as he turned from the window, eyeing the door on the other side of the room, the door to freedom.

Raoul had seen the direction in which Henri's gaze had turned and he quickly rose to his feet, stepping between Henri and the door. "No," he said simply.

"She deserves better," Henri said.

"She deserves you," Raoul told him.

Henri stared at his cousin, at the unyielding stance of Raoul's body and slowly sat down on a nearby bench. "She deserves a real man, an honest man," Henri sighed as he bent over and placed his head into his hands. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "She does not deserve me."

"What happened to the brave man who pulled me from that coffin?" Henri heard Raoul ask softly. "What happened to the man who saved my life? What happened to the man who risked everything – every family connection, even his own life – to protect my wife and child?"

Henri snorted. "And we all know how that worked out."

"It worked out just fine," Raoul insisted. "I know you cannot have forgotten that much!"

"I have not," Henri said as he turned his head slightly to look at Raoul. He sighed and turned his head back, running his hands through sandy brown hair. "I have not," he whispered.

There was a long silence that was finally broken as Henri raised his head from his hands. He straightened his shoulders and turned to look at his cousin. "I am afraid, Raoul," he whispered. "I have never been so afraid in my life and if you ever tell anyone I said that, I will deny it until my dying breath!"

"What is there to be afraid of?" Raoul wondered.

"Constance," Henri told him. "She is smart and beautiful. She is calm in the face of my arrogance. She is wise in the face of my ignorance. She is patient in the face of my foolishness." Henri shook his head. "She is forgiving and understanding and everything I have ever yearned to be! I am so afraid that the day will come when she will awaken and realize just who it is that shares her life. I am afraid that today will be that day. I am afraid that she will see me standing at the altar and turn to run the other way – should she even get that far! I am afraid that this is all an illusion and I shall be made out to be the biggest fool this world has ever seen!"

"Do you think you are the only man who has ever experienced those doubts on his wedding day?" Raoul asked.

"You did not," Henri grumped. "You were so certain of Christine and your feelings for her and hers for you."

"I was afraid," Raoul told him. "I just hid it better than you." He shook his head as the memories flooded back. "I was afraid that Christine would not be there. I was afraid her Angel would see our wedding announcement in the paper and spirit Christine away before I even knew she had gone." A look of pained amazement passed over Raoul's face. "Why do you think it was so hard for Christine and I to reclaim our marriage after what happened? I was terrified that Christine no longer wanted me, no longer needed me and that she would return to him. Every man – every person – has uncertainties they must face. You and I are no different."

Whatever Henri might have said was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Neither he nor Raoul had a chance to answer or to rise to their feet before the door was opened and a small, blonde whirlwind raced into the room.

"Papa!" Isabelle called out as she flung herself into her father's open arms.

Henri watched, a smile in his heart, as the look on Raoul's face transformed - unwanted years and cares fading away - as he lifted his daughter onto his lap. It was moments like this that bolstered Henri's still flagging self-confidence. It was these moments that reminded Henri that there was a decent person living somewhere inside of him. It was these moments full of a precious normality that Henri had helped to rescue from the jaws of evil that convinced Henri he did – indeed - deserve Constance. As a giggling Isabelle planted kisses all over her father's face, Henri turned to see Isabelle's mother standing in the open doorway, a genuine smile on her face for him. It was another small boost for Henri to know that he and Christine had come so far from those first deceitful moments – moments he had caused. They had come so far from those first awkward moments that Christine trusted Henri to spend time alone with both her children – a trust she placed in few others.

"It is good to see that you are still here," Christine said as she entered the room, closing the door behind her. "Constance was worried that you might have bolted.

"She is here?" Henri asked, wonder and amazement crossing his face. "She really came?"

"Of a certainty," Christine told him, unable to stop the small laugh that escaped.

Isabelle finally turned her attention toward Henri. "Aunt Constance looks like a fairy princess!" she declared; Isabelle had a great fondness for "fairy princesses". "And I get to carry her flowers! Just like I did for Aunt Monique!"

Raoul gently lifted his daughter from his lap, smoothing the white satin of her dress, straightening the flowers that nestled in her golden curls. "You get to carry some of her flowers," he said.

Isabelle nodded. "Just some, Papa."

"Come along, Isabelle," Christine told her daughter as she held out a hand. "We must go and tell Aunt Constance that Uncle Henri is safe with your papa."

"Isabelle," Henri said as he tapped the little girl on the shoulder, waiting for her to turn around. "Could you tell Aunt Constance something else?"

Isabelle bounced on her toes. "Yes!"

"Will you tell her that I love her?" Henri wondered and placed a kiss on Isabelle's cheek. "And will you give her that from me?"

Isabelle leaned forward and kissed the end of Henri's nose. "I promise!" she said and turned to take her mother's outstretched hand.

Henri and Raoul both watched as Christine walked from the room, Isabelle skipping by her side.

"That is what it is all about," Raoul said softly as he turned to his cousin. "It is about finding someone who will love you in spite of yourself. It is about having a best friend who can still like you even when you are unlovable. It is about creating little miracles who love you without reservation, who worship you and trust you to protect them. It is about loving someone despite how they look or the mood they are in. It is about finding comfort in the silence and joy in the chaos. It is about growing old together and still seeing the beauty you married in gray hair and wrinkled skin. It is knowing that the love you create in this world is the one surety you will have in the next." Raoul paused for a moment as he clasped both hands on Henri's shoulders. "Constance offers you all that and so much more. She is the best thing that has ever happened to you. Love her, treasure her, respect her and never let her go."

Henri found he could only nod.

Raoul glanced over Henri's shoulder at the clock that ticked away. "I think it is time for us to go."

Without even realizing how he had gotten there, Henri found himself standing before the altar of the parish church in which he had been baptized. Birds could be heard singing in the spring countryside beyond the stained glass windows. Not far from the church, a magnificent banquet and reception were undergoing finishing touches at the manor home of Henri's parents, Steven and Sarah, Lord and Lady De Chagny. Yet Henri's thoughts did not stray toward the food or the musicians that awaited all those gathered about him. His eyes glanced around the crowded church, seeing familiar faces of family and friends and new faces of the American family and friends that were welcoming him into their midst that day. Henri drew a deep breath as the organ music began, feeling the loving support of Raoul, Didier – and Philippe - as they stood by his side. Henri watched as Isabelle walked down the aisle, scattering rose petals from the basket that she carried before turning to the open arms of her mother. Henri watched as girls whose names he could not remember followed down the aisle behind Isabelle.

Suddenly Henri could not see anything else. There was no Isabelle, no family, no friends. There was nothing else in Henri's world as Constance appeared in the doorway upon her father's arm. Henri watched as a vision in pure white satin and lace glided gracefully and confidently down the aisle. He focused on the dark blue eyes that sparkled beneath the lace veil, the smile that beamed upon him, that was only for him. Henri watched the smile broaden as Constance and her father reached the altar, standing beside him. Then Constance's hand was being pressed into his and Henri's whole world narrowed down to that feeling, those gloved fingers intertwining with his own and how right they felt. Henri heard words being spoken about him but could not make them out. He raised his eyes to the round stained glass depiction of The Shepherd leading his flock above the altar and at that moment a ray of sun shone through the window, multi-colored, jeweled fragments of light dancing over Henri and the angel standing beside him.

_Thank you,_ the silent prayer went up from Henri's grateful heart and he gently squeezed the hand he held, the fear and uncertainty fleeing as Henri turned to his bride, beginning an ages-old ritual:

"I, Henri Michael George, take you Constance Abigail…"


End file.
